


Justice and Virtue

by GeekyRoleplayer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Homesickness, I had fallen out of my dragon age groove, I made up a random clan for this, I needed something to get back in touch with my son Mahvir again, M/M, don't mind me, elves caring for elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26950948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyRoleplayer/pseuds/GeekyRoleplayer
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan and his companions stumble upon a group of Red Templars.  Seeing as they are carting around people in cages, the only option is to seize and rescue.Unfortunately, homesickness finds the Dalish Inquisitor wherever he goes.
Relationships: Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 27





	Justice and Virtue

The autumn leaves barely stirred beneath his feet as he kneeled amongst the cover of the woodland underbrush. Dusk had fallen hours ago and he had abandoned his boots as the moon rose in the sky. He held his hand against his grapple-chain, keeping it from rattling. Being particular about his stealth. 

The night was a clear one and the Inquisitior seemed more in his element than he ever was within the walls of skyhold. 

He was peering off in the direction of a burning fire and an abandoned watch tower. It's decrepit cobblestone walls had been taken over by a company of Red Templars, and they traveled with throngs of Cages. Cages that housed humans, elves, and dwarfs alike. 

The Inquisitor's party was outnumbered fifteen to four but they had countered odds larger than that before. Besides, if they waited for reinforcements, they would likely loose the Templars in the process.   
He couldn't allow that. 

For a moment, hidden among the teeming wildlife, he reminds himself of those nights with his clanmates- even if that was a lifetime away now. 

Tonight he was the lone hunter and those below, with skin coated in red crystals, were his prey. 

"The plan." He says, and it draws the attention of his companions. "Varric and Dorian, you're going to rescue the slaves. Cole, you and I are the distraction." 

"Is that wise?" Dorian manages, "I thought I saw some Dalish in those cages, who knows how long they have been there." 

Mahvir turns his gaze upon his lover and recognizes his token expression of concern. Eyes twinkling and lips drawn into a slight pout. "Ghi'len." He says, "Tell them that's what you are, Ghi'len ar etha." 

Dorian tilts his head to the side, parting his lips to test the pronunciation on his tongue. "I'm their guide?" 

"To safety," Mahvir finishes, "And if that doesn't work, show them your Inquisition insignia." 

"Sounds foolproof to me." Varric says, and Dorian chuckles lowly. 

"Are we ready?" Mahvir asks. "I'll let you get to the base of the trees before I charge them." 

"Do try not to die, Amatus." 

"And miss seeing that pretty face of yours? Perish the thought." 

The mage and the rogue depart, not as light on their feet as the elf had been when he led them to their hiding place. His gaze follows them for a moment, before he averts his gaze back to the fire. 

"You want to make them think you're an animal?" Cole whispers, "But it upsets you when they call you a Rabbit, and that is an animal." 

"They seek to insult me when they say that, Cole," he answers. "And I am much more dangerous than a rabbit." 

Dorian and Varric had reached the edge of the treeline now and Mahvir reaches out to grasp a bundle of sticks within his gloved hands. He waits a moment, takes in a calming breath, before snapping them all at once between his hands. 

A dozen heads snap towards his direction at once. Templars glaring into the darkness of the woodland in anticipation. Mahvir leans forward to stare directly into the fire and instantly a flurry of whispers ripple through the enemy camp. 

His eyes would have caught in the light and their peculiar color would only add to the illusion that he was an animal of some kind- particularly a large one by all the noise he was making. It was an old dalish trick, one that they used to scare away bandits or human hunters who ventured too close to the clan. 

Cole steps on a few twigs, adding to his trickery. 

The Templars continue to speak beside the fire before a group of them rise at once and start to approach. Their weapons drawn and shields raised. 

"Disappear, Cole." Mahvir murmurs under his breath as he withdrawls his own blade. "Take out their archers first." 

The spirit does as he is told and the Inquisitor is left alone to stare down his aggressors as they came closer to his trap. He watches the six of them like a beast waiting to pounce. 

They gather at the foot of the trees and he springs. Diving between their forces and drawing his own shield as he does so. He uses it to block an attack, before pivoting on his heel to slam it into the helmet of the nearest Templar.

They scream due to the torturous ringing in their ears and the rest of the camp flings into choas. Alerted to the danger. Mahvir waste no time in knocking his way past another Templar, finding a spot in their armor, where the chestplate met thighplate, that he could slide his sword in and hit flesh. 

Above his head, an arrow flies, and some one yells that they are the Inquisition. 

"There's an assassin!" One voice cries.

"Don't worry about him!" Another voice answers, "Kill their warrior!" 

"This is for Corypheus!" A Templar beside Mahvir bellows, but they begin to choke on their words a moment later as he slits their throat in one fluid motion. Warm blood splatters against his cheek and his tastebuds were consumed with the familiar tanginess of battle. 

No one had raised the alarm about the slaves and Mahvir can only assume that their guard had been delivered a quick death by one of Bianca's bolts. 

He was preoccupied himself, as more Templars had honed in on his location. He was grappling with one, shield against shield, when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. 

The wind stirs, and he can sense a blade being raised above his head before he can see it. He waits a heartbeat, before ducking between both Templars. 

The one who stood behind him plunged his blade down and accidentally struck his fellow Templar in the skull. A blood- curling screamresonates through the air as a result. Mahvir rolls away from the feet of the two men. 

By the time the Inquisitior had gotten to his feet, the cages in the old tower had been unlocked and people of all races, dawned in beatings and tattered clothes, were racing into the darkness. Varric fled with them, keeping them on route, but Dorian had paused to help an elder elf. Dalish like he had said- and by the look of her- a Keeper. 

The mage had his back turned to the conflict but there was something rigorously dangerous about his posture. He would rather die himself than allow any more harm to befall this old woman. This acknowledgement is only fleeting, but as Mahvir's gaze lingers on his boyfriend, he is reminded of why he fell in love with him the first place. 

The moment dissipates when Cole's voice calls out to him in the darkness. He alerts to his surroundings and thanks Andruil for her gift- the ability to hunt within the dark- as he notices a Templar sneaking up on Dorian and the Keeper. 

They were too far away to serve a proper attack but he was not shy to use his grapple now. Mahvir returns his sword to it's sheath before unhooking the chain at his hip. It swings in the air, loud and dangerous, before he throws it and hooks his lover's aggressor in the leg. 

The Templar gasps in pain but can do little else as they are dragged forward, forced to fall into and then be dragged through, the dirt. By the time they properly reach the Inquisitor, they are already whimpering in pain and fear. The swiftest mercy that Mahvir can deliver them is a kick to the head, one that he had to put plenty of force behind, as he'd abandoned his boots hours ago. 

It was liberating to walk and actually feel the _earth_ beneath his feet. 

"Mahvir!" Dorian calls from the treeline, "We have them all!" 

Mahvir turns to seek out Cole, but the spirit was dispatching the last Templar lieutenant. Before they leave the camp, Mahvir doses the fire in hopes that the quiet darkness would attract the true wild animals of the forest. 

°°°  
  
"This is all of them?" Harding asks as she surveys the many people scattered around the Inquisition camp. All of them were terribly malnourished and a handful of Inquisition soldiers were scrambling about to offer what little food, fresh clothes, and blankets, that they could. "I want it seen to that they all get back to their homes." 

"And if they don't have homes?" 

"Offer them one with the Inquisition." 

Something passes over Lace's expression, and it intrigues the elf. 

"What is it?" 

The dwarf shrugs her shoulders lightly, "You really do take in everyone you come across, don't you?" 

"Everyone deserves a family, especially those who may have lost their own." 

Her green eyes once again leave him, as she takes in the sight of the poor souls around them. "I'll write to Lady Nightingale and let her know Skyhold will have new arrivals soon." 

"Thank you, Lace." 

She ducks her head, almost shyly, before mustering a hearty, "Anytime Lavellan," before sneaking away to find a raven to send her correspondence. 

Dorian takes her place, saddling up to the Inquisitor's side. "Adopting more strays, are you?" 

"Why, are you jealous?" 

"Goodness no, I know I'm your favorite." 

Mahvir can't help his smile, reaching down to take the other man's hand, just so he could raise it to his lips and unashamedly lay a kiss upon his knuckles. 

Dorian scoffs, but does not reject, and Mahvir was just about to lean in and kiss him proper when a soft cough interrupts them. 

They both turn to see the elderly keeper standing before them. "Parden me Dal'en," she says, "but may I speak with you?" 

°°°

He is led away from his camp and they do not speak as they go. Mahvir had been raised to respect the silence of his elders and seeing as he walked with a Keeper now, he felt compelled to follow her without complaint. 

Her company was almost comforting, and not for the first time that night, he is wrought with a wave of homesickness. 

They finally come to a stop at the edge of a flowing creek and they settle onto it's bank. Mahvir is all too giddy to let his feet sink into the sand and he splashes about in the water a bit- it was icy for the season- and all too inviting after an intense battle. He would have to intice Dorian into a swim, someplace more remote and with plenty of sun, before they returned to Skyhold. 

The Keeper had watched him in amusement for a moment before turning her attention to the constellations that were overtaking the sky. Mahvir follows her gaze, and he says, "Pardon me Ha'ren, but I don't believe I was given your name." 

"Bellnara." She tells him, "Once Keeper to Clan Amenadiel." 

"Once Keeper," he prompts gently, and he can't help but frown as she visibly deflates. "The elves who were with me in those cages are all that is left of my clan. The others had either been killed or sent to be sold elsewhere." 

Mahvir murmurs a slew of soft elvish beneath his breath, a prayer for those who had passed, and a blessing of protection for those who remained, scattered to the wind. 

"The sentiment is kind," Bellnara says, "but they were not your kin." 

"But they were my people," he reminds her gently, "and I grieve with you." 

"If that is true," she answers, "perhaps you can help me." 

Mahvir perks up, drawing his knees to his chest and using them as a place to rest his chin. His cat-like eyes seek out a similar pair, ones of emerald green, and he inclines his head for the Keeper to continue. 

"I am old." She says simply. "I could not even protect my clan from an invasion and I certainly can't help them rebuild to prosper as they once were. Their trust in me has dwindled and I only want what is best for them." 

"How can I help you, Bellnara?" 

"Inquisitor Lavellan, you are likely the most important Dalish in all of Thedas. Surely you keep eyes on the other clans who pass by your territories?" 

"I do." 

"I would like to take what little of my elves remain, and join them with one of those clans." 

Mahvir considers her proposition for a moment and it was a fair one. Elves often moved from one clan to another, but that was usually due to marriages, not because of deaths. Still, he knew how difficult it was for him to integrate into human culture. In fact, it had been months, and he still wasn't used to it. 

He considered sending them on to Clan Lavellan, but Bellnara was right. She was old and would not likely survive the rigorous travel necessary to cross the sea. The gears in his mind turn, as he ponders this problem with great consideration.

Finally he speaks, "There is a clan in the Exalted Plains who the Inquisition is on good terms with. I will send word personally to their Keeper, and see what I can arrange." 

Bellnara nods, and some relief seems to flood into her old bones. Mahvir reaches out to tentatively take one of her hands between his own. 

"I am tired of watching our people suffer Bellnara and I promise, yours will have a home." 

°°°   
When they return to camp, Dorian is waiting for him with a blanket and a steaming bowl of stew. Mahvir exchanged both of them for the kiss he had been kept from giving before. 

"Thank you for always looking out for me, Vehnan." 

"And thank you for always looking out for everyone else, Amatus." Dorian answers, before narrowing his eyes at the way the elf's posture slouched into something horrid. "Will you be retiring to your tent for the night?" 

"Yes, I have some letters to write." Ones that he wanted to get done and sent out at first light, if they were to reach the Exalted Plains as soon as possible. 

He takes a small step towards the aforementioned tent before turning back to gaze at his lover. "Will you come lay with me?" He asks, "I'm not feeling well." 

It wasn't an easy thing to admit, but an intense battle followed by a long walk through the woods did nothing for his twisted bones and troublesome muscles. 

Dorian knew this well, and he smiles. "Of course I will, after you." 

The mage was good company to have, after a day like that one, when being Inquisitor required him to be efficient, ruthless, and compassionate, all at once.


End file.
